


White Noise

by iloveyoudie



Series: Sure would be a bummer if he got shot and died... [14]
Category: Endeavour (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cuddling & Snuggling, Kevin McCloud is the Other Man, Late at Night, M/M, Modern Era, can't sleep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-05-04
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:07:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24002572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iloveyoudie/pseuds/iloveyoudie
Summary: Ronnie Box woke up because he was cold, but it wasn’t just a chill from the duvet shifting or his foot hanging out from under the sheet, it was the absence of George beside him.
Relationships: Ronnie Box/George Fancy
Series: Sure would be a bummer if he got shot and died... [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1695859
Comments: 16
Kudos: 24





	White Noise

Ronnie Box woke up because he was cold, but it wasn’t just a chill from the duvet shifting or his foot hanging out from under the sheet, it was the absence of George beside him. He hadn’t realized something like that would be so bothersome, until it was. Even unconscious he seemed to know something was amiss, seemed to miss the comfortable weight and shape, the dip in the mattress, the head beside his own that snored and wheezed just as much as he did, but filled a very specific part of his night time chorus. His body knew it before his mind did when a leg stuck out too far and was met with cool sheets, when an elbow bent as he rolled and didn’t meet the resistance of George’s shoulder where it should have been. His skin prickled uncomfortably and convinced him he was chilly and as Box gripped the duvet to pull more of it up and over his chest, when he rolled towards George to spoon for warmth, it finally sunk in that he was gone. 

He waited a moment, tossed and turned, let his body wake up enough to drag his brain along for the ride, and when it did he figured out it was taking George much too long for a trip to the loo and he couldn’t see the tell tale blink of his phone by the bedside. Ron didn’t think about anything too much, he simply reacted. He hauled himself upright like a zombie rising from it’s grave, dragged his hand through his dresser for some loose shorts, and pulled them on. The false chill of the empty bed was nothing compared to being outside the blankets, and his bare torso prickled immediately upon hitting the air. He crossed his arms and frowned as he padded mechanically out of the bedroom, down the hall, and towards where he saw the glow of the television in the dark living room. 

Ronnie only paused a moment in the doorway where the hall met the living space. He squinted in the dim, not really awake, and what was conscious of his mind was a bit cranky. Cranky that George had disappeared. Cranky that his sleep had been disrupted. Cranky for the sake of it. But his overruling instinct was to find George, and he had. On the sofa, laying sideways and wrapped in a soft fleece blanket covered in superhero logos, was a very George Fancy shaped lump. He didn’t look like he was laying down so much as he looked like he’d been sitting and just sort of fallen over, and he didn’t wholly appear to be awake. His eyes were heavy, hooded, and dull but open, and when Box moved out of the shadows, George blinked and shifted his head to look at him. 

Ronnie said nothing. He huffed out a frustrated breath, adjusted his tightly crossed arms, and continued to squint in irritation as he shuffled forward, grunted and motioned with an elbow, and moved to sit. George didn’t seem to expect that he’d sit down and was a bit slow in lifting himself up, but he did finally move and wriggled his blanket looser to accommodate. As Box set down next to him he cast out an arm, grunted again, and started to paw for the blanket. George scooted back close and tugged more blanket out, spreading it over the both of them as best he could, and followed the direction of his partner’s arm which curled around him and tugged him half into the other man’s lap. Box, still silent, tugged the blanket further around them both and over as much of his chest and shoulders as he could, and closed his eyes as they both sunk down quietly together in the dark. 

“Brain again?” Ronnie finally murmured, though it was so low it could barely be counted words. George had told him once that he stayed up late because he had to wait for his brain to wear itself out, but sometimes it was more difficult to persuade and he was kept up by his own thinking. He had vivid dreams and nightmares too, he’d learned, but usually if those woke him, Ronnie inevitably was met with a comfort seeking George - clinging to him or rubbing on him or anything in between. Only his overly active mind could send him fleeing the bed for the TV out of fear of waking them other man up. 

“Mmhmm,” George yawned, which was a good sign. His body was accepting sleep even if his mind was being difficult, “Didn’t want to bother you. You can go back to bed.” 

Ronnie adjusted his head a bit against the cushion, “Only bother is you not bein there. I can sleep anywhere.” He cracked one eye more fully and snuck out a hand to rub through George’s hair and watch his eyes close in appreciation like a cat, “S’like a stakeout.” 

“You’re not supposed to sleep on stakeouts, Inspector,” George smiled and turned to give him a look. 

“I know what I said,” He smirked. 

Ronnie only just bothered to look at the television when George set his head down again and under the blanket he felt Fancy’s arm curl and hug around his thigh and knee. 

“Shoulda known..” Running his hand through George’s hair again, it settled at the back of his neck and his thumb brushed comfortingly back and forth. A comfort for both of them, he realised, “out here with the other man.” 

Grand Designs again. Kevin McCloud saying something while wearing a zip up fleece with a sport coat. Ronnie murmured, “Fuckall. Who wears that?” 

George burst out laughing softly, a surprised sound, like he wasn’t expecting to be laughing at all at this hour. He buried his face in Box’s side a moment, “It’s about the voice. And raw opinions on people’s bad taste.” 

“This one’s fuckin ugly,” Ronnie said plainly. He glanced down at George, “How raw’s that?” 

George grinned and pressed his face into the blanket again. He was chuckling but made no sound. Box set his head back again and muttered in disbelief, “Can’t believe my competiton’s Kevin fucking McCloud.” 

George actually made a noise that sounded like a low ‘Awww’ but he was smiling when he lifted his head pushed himself up and pressed a kiss to Ronnie’s jaw, “There’s no competition.” 

Box just gave him a sly side eye and a smirk. 

George settled back down again and they didn’t say anything else. Ronnie closed his eyes, continued to rub his hand through George’s hair and over his neck and sometimes over his back, until the drone of McCloud’s voice set his brain off like white noise and he began to drift. 

George yawned again and squeezed Box’s thigh where he hugged. He muttered distantly, “Thanks. I sleep better with you here..” 

Ronnie nodded and yawned himself. It was very snug, even if there was a breeze around his shins and his ears were cold. At least one shoulder was exposed and his forearm prickled with goose pimples where it met the air. Even with all that, he was snug and comfortable, much more content with those minor sacrifices than he would ever be in an empty bed. He was warmer now, half naked and barely covered by blanket, with George beside him than he could ever be without. 

“Me too, love.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Just a thing that happened while moping around late at night and needing some of these boys.


End file.
